Reunion
by The Magic Pocket Turtle
Summary: It's been five years since Emily was crowned Empress, and it's time Corvo moved on.


Five years. There were nights when Corvo still awoke in a sweat, dreaming of a hot iron pressed to his face or a black-mouthed madman at his throat. Some nights, if the air was cool enough, he dreamed of poison. He didn't drink much anymore. His throat seemed to close up of its own accord when the scent of anything fermenting hit his nose. Sometimes he missed the vice.

The first thing he'd done, when Emily was crowned Empress and he was restored to his position as Lord Protector, was hire a food taster. Emily had laughed. The taster was still employed, but had become more a companion for the young Empress than an integral part of her safety. It was familiar enough to make his heart ache a little.

The reunion was Emily's idea. Someone had suggested it in a hazy pub a lifetime ago- he didn't remember who exactly, but the Loyalists had opted to humor her- what was left of them anyway.

The Hound Pits had long since fallen to Cecelia. The Admiral had left no will, and so it fell to the government to re-sell the building. It had been gifted instead, and used to fulfill the dream of a skinny red-headed girl who had slipped unnoticed between the cracks of a revolution. Samuel helped, when he wasn't busy ferrying royalty about the city.

It was a pleasant enough party. Cecelia had Serkonan Blood Sausages made up (He wondered if she remembered the menu of the last party they'd held there.), and wine was poured (Water for Corvo and Emily- Empress or no, Corvo had a policy.).

Piero and Sokolov chattered away, their conversation soon becoming too technical and convoluted for anyone but themselves to understand. Emily and Samuel nodded politely, and exchanged bemused looks whenever the philosophers looked away. Callista and Cecelia talked peacefully in the corner, reminiscing about before.

Corvo wasn't sure if they were ignoring the beast in the room, or if he was the only one seeing it.

He borrowed a bottle of wine and slipped out the door. In the courtyard, there were two little markers. While Emily had insisted that both Lydia and Wallace be laid to rest in the royal cemetery, Cecelia had wanted to honor them as best as she could. Corvo stood silently over them a moment, then poured a bit of the wine over the markers. "To Lydia and Wallace." he murmured.

He stood, twisting the cork into the neck of the bottle, thinking. He nodded absently, and re-entered the bar.

Corvo tapped Samuel on the shoulder. "I'm stepping out for a bit. I trust you can get Emily home safely if I don't make it back on time?"

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Of course you can Corvo."

"Thank you."

For the first time in years, Corvo found himself blinking across rooftops, running and leaping and even instinctively hiding once or twice, before he remembered he was no longer a wanted criminal.

He'd set out well after noon. By the time he'd reached his destination, the colors were starting to shift in the sky.

Corvo was proud of Emily- she was kind, kinder than he was by a long mile. She'd seen Treavor and Martin buried in an undisclosed, unmarked location well out of the way of any casual passerby, in hopes that they'd be able to rest, at least, without being disturbed. And when Havelock had hung himself by his bed sheets, she'd had him buried here too.

It wasn't entirely effective. Trash littered the single stone the three of them shared was chipped and broken, and even bore some impolite graffiti. There were no names, no epithet, and no dates carved into it. There wasn't even anything indicating that there was more than one body in this grave. Some secrets just weren't kept.

Corvo spent a bit of time gathering the rubbish and piling it off to the side. He'd take care of it later. He tried and failed to clean the graffiti, but eventually sat back and sighed.

"I promised myself I was going to hate you forever."

He ran a hand through his hair. It sounded childish when you said it out loud like that. "You- the three of you, all of you, were greedy, self-absorbed, self righteous assholes. But you weren't the worst I've ever met." He sighed. "I suppose."

"We're having a reunion today. If you bastards had just stuck to the plan, the first plan, maybe you could've joined us. Cecelia made sausages- I don't know who made them last time, but... they aren't terrible. They aren't like the ones in Serkonos, but they aren't bad.

"The plague is over. It's been over for about a year now. We've started cleaning out the flooded district. We couldn't begin to try to identify the bodies, so we burned them. Emily wants to build a memorial there when we re-build the area." Corvo smiled. "I'm proud of her. I'm so proud, you would be too, if you could see her. She's like her mother. She's done well. I'm so... proud."

Corvo was silent for a while, almost as if he were waiting for a response. There wasn't even a breeze.

"I guess... I don't forgive you. Not yet. Not... not ever, I don't think. But I miss you. And I wish you could've been here." Corvo pulled the bottle of wine out of his jacket and splashed it over the stone.

In a story, this was the part where he should've felt lighter. He should've felt a weight lift from his chest, felt his breathing come sweeter and his shoulders squarer. Instead, he just felt tired. Maybe a little old. He patted the stone and sighed. "Happy anniversary."


End file.
